


The Man in The Window

by AnimeWolfGirl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gangs, Poor Arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-14 17:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimeWolfGirl/pseuds/AnimeWolfGirl
Summary: Sakura through an arranged marriage is forced to move to London, leaving behind her family and the only home she'd ever know. She's always been used to living far from civilisation in the countryside , and in a loveless, controlling marriage with a much older husband, she fears she has no chance at finding true happiness in her new life.Sakura struggles to do as her parents had taught her, to keep her head down in spite of life's blows. She would prefer to always stay within the four walls of her apartment and seek some sense of fulfilment there. She carries on relentlessly in vain, trying to achieve her impossible goal.Her only 'friend' if you could call two people who had never exchanged words changes all that. As one day a hotheaded Arthur Kirkland stuck in an equally repetitive though more dangerous life or 'The Man in The Window' accidently forces them both to go on the run after seeing something they really shouldn't have...





	1. The Man in The Window

Sakura waved at the man in the window. The man in the window was always there when Sakura looked out across the faded-green grass and broken paving stones to the slightly nicer block of flats opposite.

The man in the window had no curtains, unlike the other compartments to the sides of his. Morning and afternoon, he sat in next to, sometimes on, the windowsill. If he was having a bad day, or at least that’s what Sakura assumed was the cause of his change in attitude, he have the window open and would smoke out of it, tipping back occasionally to slug from a can. Sometimes when it was really bad, he would just stare down at the world below them for hours on end.

Other times, he’d sit with a computer on his lap and a mug of tea or his dinner in hands. He’d always notice when Sakura waved to him and would smile at her. It seemed today was one of those days, Sakura was glad. He’d not had a good day for at least a week, she had been growing worried.

It was late afternoon and the evening sun was reflecting of the carefully collected dust on the windows. Sakura was annoyed she’d only just noticed this, but she was done with the housework of the day. Cleaning them would have to wait.

The time she had now to peacefully sip her green tea was the only free time she allowed herself all day. Soon she would have to get up and start preparing the evening meal, but for a while she could afford to let the time pass.

It had been unusually hot that day save for a light dashing of rain that morning that had ruined the washing hung up to dry, but Sakura was finding herself growing more used to the unpredictability of English weather.

A blue rug hung out of a top-floor flat from the man in the windows block. A red top and a child’s dungarees a few more down.

The sign screwed to the brickwork was in stiff English capitals. Underneath there were several translations to various languages including her own. If she squinted, Sakura could just make it out. No littering. No parking. No ball games. The breeze on her face was thick with the smell from the overflowing communal bins and smoke.

Three months now since she'd been sent away to London. Every morning before she opened her eyes she thought, if she believed it would change anything, I know what I would wish. And then she opened her eyes and saw her husband’s plump face on the pillow next to her, his lips parted indignantly and his snores uncomfortably loud. She saw the dressing table with the shattered mirror, and the walk-in wardrobe that claimed most of the room.

Sakura often supposed to herself if she knew what the wish would be, then somewhere in her heart she had already made it.

The man in the window waved back at Sakura. He yawned and put down her tea so he could stretch while doing so revealing his tattoos on his right arm. At least two thirds of the flesh of his right arm was covered in all sorts of colours of ink. Sakura had never been close enough, never closer than what she was at the second, never further to decipher the designs.

Her husband said the man in the window was most certainly a no-good Hell's Angel, which upset Sakura greatly. She reasoned with herself that the man had probably never seen him when he threw breadcrumbs for the pigeons that landed on his small balcony or when he took out a paint set and captured any happy scene that might dare to appear in the grim neighbourhood.

She herself hoped the tattoos might be flowers, or birds or something of equal innocence. She herself would never dare to change her appearance in such a way, but the man in the window did not seem to care.

Sakura daydreamed sometimes of going downstairs, crossing the yard and climbing the stairwell to the fourth floor. She might have to knock on a few doors before the it was the man who answered. She would take something, a present, maybe some food. Then the man in the window would smile and Sakura would be able to smile. If she was really lucky perhaps, they would sit together by the window and let the time pass more easily.

But no matter how much she fancied it the fact remained Sakura would never do such a thing.

_Strangers_ would answer if she knocked on the wrong door. The man might be angry at an unwanted interruption from whatever he was doing on the laptop. And even if Sakura caught him in a good move what could she be able to do? Sakura could say four things in English: sorry, hello, goodbye and thank you.

Plus, she knew her husband would not like if it she was to visit another man without his permission. After all his ex-wife cheated on him, it was only natural he’d have such fears.

So, she was confined to spending another long day alone. She told herself she didn’t mind. That it didn’t matter. It was only another day of her life.

Sakura finished her tea and knew should be getting on with the evening meal.

**I looked at an extract from Brick Lane if you couldn't tell when writing this. I imagined Sakura to be like Nazeen and the tattoo lady to be Arthur. **

**Please leave a comment and kudos... **

**or don't I don't dictate your life.**


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur sat observed his surroundings from where he sat on the bench. At his feet a few hungry pigeons foolishly dared to wonder within kicking distance. Above him the sky was an ashen grey ready to poor with rain at any given second. The people passing by on the path that separated the park choose not to graciously ignore the man, or boy really, who barely out of his teens.

Their eyes drifted across his thin frame, lifeless eyes and large dark green trench coat before returning to the path ahead or the happy scene of the park to there right.

In the park there was one of those swings that went around and round instead of up and down. A child climbed on it now begging her dad to push them. With one strong push they were all set to get going their delighted laugh laced with just enough adrenaline and fear to make them appear giddy.

A man sat down next to him and started throwing bread to the pigeons. Arthur didn’t bother ripping his eyes from the scene. The girl was asking their dad to push them faster now.

‘They say its hard to make anything of your life here.’ The man spoke in a deep voice.

‘Then they do not know the way the crow flies.’ Arthur had said the line a million times before.

‘Yes, one would imagine a crow would reach somewhere worth visiting by nine this evening.’ The man answered before getting up and strolling away.

The girl was getting her wish, she was going faster.

So, Ivan wanted him at nine. That was a shame it meant he’d have to be out of the house around the time he normally waved to that Asian girl if he wanted to make it there in good time.

The girl looked like she was regretting her wish now as she tightened her grip on the rope.

_Silly child, if you want to jump off do it now before you can’t. Looking for comfort in the reason for your distress is never a good idea._

It was the same nearly every day. He’d wake up at practically noon with a hopeful mindset. He’d write a few pages of his book. He’d think about going out without his knife but then would chicken out and bring it anyway. He’d think about calling his little brothers; Peter, Alfred and Mathew before backing out and allowing himself to be alone. He’d meet with Ivan’s people. He’d have dinner. He’d wave at the women. He’d go to meet with Ivan. He’d see what he wanted stolen. He’d steal it. Ivan would send the money and protection to his brothers.

The girl was going faster. Round and round and around in circles never stopping, never changing route but each complete circle adding up to the fear and pain.

Wake up at practically noon, a hopeful mindset. Write a few pages. Going out with his knife. Think about calling before backing out and allowing himself to be alone. Meet with Ivan’s people. Dinner. Wave at the women. Go to meet with Ivan. See what he wanted stolen. Steal it. Money and protection to his brothers.

The girl was screaming now, the dad did not appear to realize it was out of terror. He continued pushing her round and round and round.

Wake up. Write. Knife. Alone. Meet. Dinner. Wave. Ivan. Wanted. Steal. Money and Protection.

Round and round and round and round.

Wake up. Write. Knife. Alone. Meet. Dinner. Wave. Ivan. Wanted. Steal. Money and Protection.

“Dad! I want to get off!’ that’s what Arthur imagined the girl to be sobbing as he could not hear.

Round and round and round and round.

Wake up. Write. Knife. Alone. Meet. Dinner. Wave. Ivan. Wanted. Steal. Money and Protection. Wake up. Write. Knife. Alone. Meet. Dinner. Wave. Ivan. Wanted. Steal. Money and Protection. Wake up. Write. Knife. Alone. Meet. Dinner. Wave. Ivan. Wanted. Steal. Money and Protection.

Round and round and round and round.

Round and round and round and round.

Round and round and round and round.

Round and round and round and round.

The little girls father finally got the memo and helped her get off. Arthur sighed and he himself stood up to walk back to the apartment.


End file.
